The Invisible Man
by NanaMun
Summary: I may have been the invisible man to his parents and to his husband, but I wasn't the casualty.


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**Author's Notes: ** This is a holiday special to my readers from me. I haven't been writing much one-shot stories, more "long one-shot intentioned, but ultimately chaptered stories", so this will be the first of two to give you for this special occasion. Keep in mind that this actual story isn't Christmas themed, just something I put together.

**Disclaimer:** _There is male on male relations, lots of angst and depending on how optimistic you are, may or may not be an HEA. Read at your own risk._

**The Invisible Man**

"Fuck, right there!"

His arms buckled from under him, but with the flex of mine I was able to keep him up over the counter. He didn't seem to mind that my hand had to grip tighter around his shoulder. Nights like these, he preferred it this way. The shorter the time, the rougher the touch. He told me it was because it lingered, lasted longer than my company, so at least he could have that.

This fucking deal we had had begun to spoil that brain of his.

And I've already grown tired.

But out of habit, I kiss the knobs of his spine, whispered how tight his ass was, how much I missed him and I came into the rubber bag separating us. And suddenly I felt cheap. I always did. When I pulled out, he quivered from the loss of contact, still hard. I turned him around and pressed our lips together in a hard, aggressive kiss before I dropped to my knees.

He gasped in delight and surprise. I had omitted this out of our meet-ups before, knowing this was one of the intimate things he loved so much, but couldn't have if I couldn't have him. Now it was a parting favor.

I would have never thought to do this months before. Leaving him used to make my insides quiver and my heart ache. I had insomnia from nights alone. I remembered how hard it used to be, but the weeks without him made me bitter and the months without him made me stronger. Being without him was a dull ache I could swallow with my beer the nights I was out fucking faceless men. The pain could be forgotten. The pain and the knowledge that I chose him but he did not choose me.

What a fantastic fairy tale this turned out to be.

But he still made me hard and still made me forget about everything when I had him to myself for those small moments. I couldn't deny the taste of him on my tongue was heaven. I couldn't deny the silky texture of his skin sliding along the walls of my mouth. I couldn't deny taking him all in, reveling in that whimper I knew was reserved for me. He always said my mouth was the best. Too bad this was the last time I'd taste him, watch his head throw back, feel his legs buckle under his weight as I drank him down. This was the last stop.

But I had remembered the first.

I had met him the night I covered for a co-worker at a decrepit mechanic shop I could only get for work. I had been lucky seeing him walk in. I was supposed to be home, sleeping off 12 hours of work, not tacking on 6, but I thanked a shitty supervisor and a lazy co-worker for the chance to see him. He looked lost, upset and fucking hot. Even distraught, he was graceful walking over to me, explaining the problem with his car. It was a new Mercedes given to him as a gift –his first car. Something was wrong with it, but he had been lucky it stopped working right by our shop. I told him I'd take a look before we'd tow it in just to calm him down. He was fucking beautiful but still a mess. I followed him down the road to the shiny new car. He came from money. It was written all over his clothes, hair, and the way he held himself. I usually didn't fall for stiff types, but there was elegance to him, something beyond a pretentious asshole. I wanted it to be me. I asked for his keys and got into the car, noticing how plush and new-smelling the leather seats were. I stuck the key into the ignition, turned and checked for any warning lights or weird engine noises. I bit the inside of my cheek when my eyes fell on the source of the problem. Sighing, I pulled the key out of the ignition and got out of the car.

"Is it something bad?" He asked, genuinely concerned. I kept my face as neutral as possible and shook my head.

Handing him the keys, I answered softly, "You ran out of gas."

It was funny, cute and somehow sexy. He was a rich boy with no grasp on the real world. All that chauffeuring and spoon-fed raising had made his life as a college student that much harder. He was embarrassed turning away to hide his reddened cheeks and apologized for wasting my time. I told him I would help him and forget he ever stopped by if I could see him again. He was hesitant, looking over my greased shirt and oily hands, but his eyes lingered on mine a second longer before he nodded.

We met at a coffee shop by the campus. He was more put together this time around, folding himself neatly in the chair, adjusting the leather messenger bag around his shoulder before appraisingly watching the patrons. I could tell he was self-aware of his status. He occasionally fingered his expensive watch, adjusted the collar of his custom fitted shirt and sipped in distain as his coffee. I noticed all that and I didn't care. He had a dry humor, sharp mind and admitted he loved a man who could take control. It was why he had said yes. He knew what I wanted and I was willing to do what I could to get it. He was frank –the best part about him.

To say Edward and I dated at first would be a stretch. We started with the coffee shop and eventually it grew to one dinner date, to meet-ups at a bar and finally my house a few weeks later. I had just moved into a one bedroom, shabby apartment among college students. Although I looked the part, I couldn't afford attending college and I never had much show for grades in high school. My only career choice came from the hours and dedication I put into my bike and car growing up. It got me the job and eventually the shitty apartment. When Edward stepped in, I could see the mortification. He couldn't stand it. He kept from touching anything and smiled politely when I offered him something to drink. It was awkward at first, until finally the lust settled in his dark, green eyes. He watched me through his lashes, playing with the hem of his shirt.

"Come here." I ordered. It took less than a second for him to comply. I didn't need words to tell him what to do. He was on his knees, unbuckling my jeans and soon my hardening cock was down his throat, pink lips wrapped around it like a fucking bow on a gift.

He got himself off as he sucked me and when he was done, hurriedly stood to his feet, brushing off his knees as if he had been in shit the entire time. The moment ended and he said he had to study so he left.

We hadn't even kissed.

I figured that was it. But he showed up at my job a few days later, asking to meet me at the bar we frequented. I did and it lead to my apartment again. This time I sucked him off as he comfortably lay on my couch. I found I liked this scenario better. He made the best sounds and the begging got me off way quicker than his lips ever could.

It continued. He'd show up at my work or find me at the bar. We didn't talk much at first, just fucked but as time went on, I found myself learning things about him. Other than him being prissy and high class, he was strongly passionate about improper medicinal practice seeing how he was studying to become a doctor. He didn't like cigarettes. I had found that one out after the second time I fucked him from behind. He hadn't moved, exhausted and I was well spent, but figured I deserved a smoke. He made a snide comment and I put the stick out just so he'd shut up. It was comical yet irritating. I found I liked it.

Suddenly I wanted to know more about him. What his parents did, how he became such a snob, where he was from. He kept the information about his parents very vague and only ever went into detail about school and classes. I got it. He didn't want me to know about them.

The first time I asked if he was out, he had just blown me in the parking lot of the coffee shop. Wiping a trickle of cum off his lips, he muttered something about studying for class and I found my ass standing in the lot alone not a minute later. The second time I asked, I was wise enough to do it at my own house. He huffed angrily demanding why it was important. It wasn't. I was curious. So I shrugged, hoping he'd forget about it and fucked him hard enough for it to be so.

It was a slap in the face when I realized I was in love with him. It was one of the rare nights where we talked more than we fucked and I said something –what it was I can't remember –that made him laugh, his eyes twinkling as he rested his head on my shoulder. It occurred to me that I wanted that and with him. I didn't say the words, because they weren't necessary, but it changed the way I looked at him, thought about him. It made me care when he didn't call for days and worry when he was upset about tests and stresses of life.

It also made me _hungry_ for more information about him.

So once again I found myself asking questions. About his life, his family. And once again he clammed up. It was futile, tiring and it wore on me. The sex was fun and the light banter was amusing, but I couldn't even call Edward an acquaintance. We didn't introduce each other to our friends though I knew he had his own and he was aware I had mine. There were no 'dinner and a movie' scenarios. We barely did anything other than fuck.

I wanted to know if there was something more but I knew Edward and his frankness. If he wanted more, he'd say so. So, before I could fall anymore, I decided to end all ties. I was starting to lose my touch, spending so much time with him and little with my friends, unable to explain just what I was doing and who with without them wanting to know more. And there wasn't more to tell.

I stopped answering his calls, ignored him when he visited, avoided him at the bar. It should have ended there; in fact I expected it to. But he was persistent, persistent enough to corner me in company with the same friends he had no interest in meeting before, making his face known, eager –_desperate –_to talk. And when I turned away, he begged. In front of men I knew he would have never dared shown a weakness while in the company of, men who he thought of as serviceman, men like me. All the time I knew Edward, he hadn't cracked. This time he did. In public.

That night I told him. If he wanted to see me, he needed to tell me who he was. And without the usual sneer or burst of indignation, he spoke. He told me that his father was a respected banker, coming from a line of men in the same profession. His mother occasionally worked in the estates, though during his childhood was a housewife. She was a daughter of a respected judge, coming also from a well-to-do family. He met them every Sunday for brunch and on holidays, but rarely spoke to them. As I expected, they didn't provide a _heavy_ presence in his childhood and had their ideals of what they expected him to be. And above all, they didn't know he was gay.

"It doesn't get in the way of anything I do." He said with conviction, "They live miles away and would have refused to know anyone in the circles I associate with, so nothing could get to them but I'm expected to marry and have kids."

"Right…" It was a daunting truth.

"I'm going to come out though." He whispered to himself, "When I don't need them anymore, I will."

It took a month before Edward suggested the 'dinner and a movie' and about six months before he brought up us as a couple. By the next Fall, he admitted he was in love with me. It was one of the happiest moments of my life. Up until that point he had only ever been at my house but for the first time he invited me over to the condo his parents had paid for while he went to school. That night we didn't have the heated sex against the wall, in the shower or on the living room floor. We made love in his California king bed, only to wake up the next morning, smiling and sated.

I knew it was something he wanted to do over and over again and only a few months had passed before he was asking me to move in.

"Don't worry, Jake." He was elated, nearly jumping up and down, "My parents never come to visit. It's always me visiting them."

"Edward, I can't afford living here-"

He rolled his eyes as if what I was saying was common knowledge, "Of course you wouldn't pay a thing. Everything is already paid for. I have a card for essentials and groceries, so we would have all we want."

I didn't like the idea but I was seeing a new side to Edward. In this space he was more radiant, loving and wonderful. He wasn't the snob, grimacing at stains on my carpet or making remarks about drapes and furniture. In his apartment he made breakfast in the morning and kissed me before heading off to work. I said yes, and was handed a key. I didn't have to pay for anything. My income was still coming in but Edward refused to take, so I saved, hoping I'd put it to use for anything he felt he needed. But Edward came from a world where he wanted for nothing.

My money accumulated.

It took some time before I realized that we were officially a couple. He had met my friends, got along with them, joked with them and soon we were a group. There were invitation to birthdays, camping trips on some weekends and double or triple dates. He said he loved me everyday, we woke up smiling to each other and we made love more than we fucked.

Two years of an unexpected perfect life. I didn't ask about his parents and he never talked about them.

Until his last semester at school.

We talked about him graduating, and eventually being able to move out of the apartment.

"A few more years and I can come out."

I smiled, knowing I could prove my worth to him then, "How about you come out after graduation." I suggested, "I saved money from work, more than a year's worth. That'll be enough for us to find our own place and live comfortably for a while."

"But what about money for school?"

"They have financial aid." Edward from two years ago would have grimaced, made some remark about how he could never see himself with debt, but the Edward that was sitting in my arms beamed at me and said yes. His smile only lessened when he said he'd have to come out after the ceremony. But that would mean I couldn't go. They couldn't see me there. It hurt knowing that in the end, he was hiding me from them, but I understood and agreed.

I was proud to see him leave the house in the gown even while knowing I couldn't follow. When he bounded in not hours later, I knew it was with good news. He explained that it had been hard to put it into to words when his parents took him to dinner after the ceremony but he actually came out.

"Love, it felt like a weight was finally off of my shoulder," There were tears of joy in his eyes, "I was just happy that I could say it."

I was eager to know how they'd take the news, "What did they say, baby?"

And with a dramatic pause, he cupped my cheek, "They just…said 'okay'."

I frowned, searching his eyes, hoping there was more, "That's it." He shrugged in response, "They weren't elated that you came out?"

"They just explained that I shouldn't bring it up at functions and to keep my personal life private but other than that they weren't bothered too much." I couldn't explain just why I felt crestfallen. This meant he wasn't kicked out the condo, this meant he didn't lose a mother and father. But the blearing fact was that he didn't mention me.

"You didn't say you were in a relationship." It wasn't a question.

Noticing my displeasure, He jumped to action, "Jake, my parents…" A look of apathy glossed over his eyes, "They can save face with a gay son better than they can a son who isn't successful in all aspects."

"Meaning, you need to be with someone who isn't a mechanic with a high school diploma." I said bitterly.

"I love you and what you are doesn't bother me."

I couldn't stop myself from believing that wasn't true, "Sometimes I wonder."

It was supposed to be perfect. He was out and we were free to love each other, but I couldn't help the hurt I was feeling. It was a nagging sting in my chest thinking about how different he was in _his_ home than in mine. I recalled when he recoiled at the thought of eating a T.V. dinner, how he refused to take off his shoes until we were in a fucking frenzy. Inside his world, we were happy but in mine he was that _status_ boy, the son of his parents.

He spent longer hours away on Sunday. And when he came home, he was distant and quiet. I knew Sundays were reserved he for his parents and I knew it was something they were doing to alter his moods. We never fucked on Sundays after his graduation. Then soon, it was Sundays and Mondays. After a few weeks, it was once every few days. Our mornings of sated smiles and giggles dissolved into waking up to an empty bed, or his back turned away. I wasn't sure if it was something I was doing or something his parents was doing but it didn't take long to figure it out.

That stormy October night when he stepped into the living room with one of his many tailored suits, I raised a brow in question asking what function he was attending. I became worried when he didn't answer quickly enough.

"Edward?"

"Something for my parents." He mumbled. His eyes were tired as he stood before me. I didn't like this at all.

Letting out a small breath and quietly resenting his parents, I stood on my feet and walked over to him, "Say you're sick tonight, baby." I leaned in, brushing my lips against his ear, "I'll make us dinner. Anything you like. Then I'll fix up a bubble bath, give you a full body massage and slide in that ass of yours. I miss it so fuckin' much." And I did. Two years of feeling his silky insides close in around my cock was a blessing. My hands travelled to his ass, cupping the globes and pressing him to me. He smelled delicious, like soap and cologne. I nibbled on his neck and he shuddered.

"That's right, baby." I encouraged, "Let me take care of you."

He scoffed, before planting his palms between us and pushing against my chest, "I can't, okay?" He snapped.

I was taken back that he was annoyed, "Baby, what's wrong?"

He sneered, shaking his head, "I can't stay home with you every fucking night."

I knew he was tired but something was eating at him and knowing he was refraining from telling me was making me angry, "Well, fuck I know that. I only asked for you to stay because I thought you didn't want to go. But by all means…" I gestured towards the front hall before marching back to the couch making a point to ignore him.

He stood there a few solid seconds, watching me before finally giving up with a sigh, "I'm sorry, love." It was a whisper, a desperate need for me to forgive him. But I couldn't find it in me to do so at thet moment. He finally gave in to my silence and left. He didn't come back until the early hours of the morning. I wasn't sure what time, because I wasn't in bed to greet him. It was the first time we slept separately in his house.

He dressed up every few nights, stepping out in a new suit smelling like cologne and looking beautiful. Each time he did, I became angrier. By the second week, I snapped, stopping him as he stepped out of the shower. I had seen the suit laid out on the bed and I needed answers.

"How many _fucking_ functions do you need to go to?"

Edward scrubbed his head with the towel, shrugging. We had barely uttered sentences to each other since the first function. We hadn't even touched, let alone fucked in weeks. I stood in the doorway, watching as he dried off and lotioned up. I didn't move when he tried to step into the bedroom.

"Answer my question, Edward." I growled, furious at his indifference.

"I need to get ready." He calmly responded. And that was all I needed to take his shoulders in my hands and hold him in place.

"Tell me or I'm going with you!"

"Fine!" He hissed, "A date! A fucking date, Jake! Are you happy?" As if burned by him, I removed my hands from his shoulders and stepped back in horror. He did not just say…

"A date…"

His jaw was clenched as he angrily watched me. There was such _fury_ and _regret_. I didn't understand any of it, "Yes. Are you satisfied now? I've been going on set-ups dates by my parents."

It was my turn to be angry, "Why the fuck would they set you up on dates when they know you're gay?"

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes watching mine before he calmly spoke, "They are men."

The air left the room. I had to fucking sit down to catch my breath, "Didn't you tell them-"

"No" He snapped. Of course not. He couldn't say he was in a relationship with someone like me.

"Who are they?"

"What does it matter?" He barked out harshly. We exchanged heated glares before he spoke again, "Lawyers, doctors, CEOs" They all sounded like men with careers, men who had to be at least in their later 20s.

"They are all older than you." It was an odd observation but it struck a chord with me, one I couldn't understand.

Edward made a noise of disbelief, "That's all. You're concerned about old men wining and dining me?"

"What else should I say, Edward?" My heart hurt just staring at the man before me. This was the person he really was –a man who preferred finer things, "Should I say 'don't do it'? We both know you won't."

"I _can't_" He hissed.

"No, you can. You choose not to." I didn't wait for him to answer. I stood on my feet, fury reddening my vision. I left the apartment and didn't return until dawn. I never checked to see if he made it back safely.

Months dragged on. He disappeared in a suit twice a week and I on the nights he was home. I spent hours at the bar we used to meet up at. Some nights I drank, others I stared off in the distance wondering what the fuck I was going to do. Maybe this was it, maybe we were through. I'd come home, stumbling from intoxication or agony and collapse on the couch, exhausted and hurt. There were days that would go by where I wouldn't see him at all. Those days were hard to get through, but then, I found there were days where I could hear him moving around the house. He was there, present, cooking or in his study reading. And sometimes, on rainless nights, I'd hear the sobs, soft and aching. They went on for hours but I could never bring myself to climb the steps, to make it over to console him. What could I do that he couldn't do for himself? It was those days that were hell.

The suits disappeared with the Fall and soon he was wearing casual clothes leaving the house. Sundays bled into Mondays with him not home. I had become so inconsolable that I'd spend the days at a friend's house, occupying their guest room, unable to speak, let alone breathe. There were times I was gone for days on end, only to show up with the house empty and quiet.

This was a war zone.

By the New Year, I have accumulated enough money to move out on my own and sustain myself for quite some time in a decent, livable space. I had packed silently, moving my clothes over to a friend's for safe keeping. I expected to break the news to him but was surprised to be met with some of my own.

He had walked into the house on a cool, bright February morning. I heard him walking through the house and I thought to the last time we spoke. Had it been a month? Or maybe a few weeks? I couldn't even remember. He had walked in, the sun brightening the bronze highlights of his hair. It still took my breath away. With a cup of coffee in my hand, I listened as he said the words.

"My parents are selling the condo." My heart sunk, not because it meant our house was gone but our time was officially up. There was no way Edward would take me with him and there was no way I'd go, "I'm moving everything out by the last week of March." He didn't need to finish the rest. It was a deadline.

I placed the cup of coffee I had frozen against my lips down. It was done. It was over. "My things are already packed." That was all I needed to say. I caught the shock, the brief look of hurt in his eyes. I wasn't proud to admit that I wanted to see it. I wasn't proud to admit that he deserved it just a little bit for not loving me enough.

I stepped out of the house and never looked back.

By the end of February, I had my own apartment. It wasn't as nice as the condo but I knew if this would have been what Edward seen when we had first dated, he would have been impressed. It still hurt thinking about our deteriorating relationship, so I occupied my time with work. Months passed and I went through the motions. No word from Edward, so I made no mention of him to anyone else. It was as if the last 3 years of my life hadn't happened.

My dedication to work as a distraction from my heart worked in my favor. For my hard work, I was offered a job at a famous shop known for its professional customizing. They needed someone with mechanical skills and somehow word got out that I knew my shit. I got the job on sight, offered a staggering 8 bucks more an hour than what I was making at the shitty mechanic shop I had busted my ass at for 5 years. By the first year mark working at my new job, I was well acquainted with everyone, getting some new friends and a comfortable relationship with the owner. It didn't take long before I was titled the Head Mechanic and given yet another raise. Life at work was great, a welcomed distraction from the emptiness I felt at home. I had taken to wandering over to the gay clubs when I got desperate, grabbing up any hot twink that was offering and not wasting time fucking him in the backroom before slipping out before names could be exchanged. I didn't enjoy it but it was a release.

I had been avoiding _our_ bar for quite some time but after a few months of tiring out the club patrons, I strolled in one night allowing my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting and dark furnishing. It had been nearly a year and a half since I had last been here. It hurt a little to think about it, so I figured I needed a drink. The bartender was one I didn't recognize I had voiced my drink of choice. I had a moment to myself, tossing back the pain and regret and taking in the satisfying burn. I sat in silence, hearing the hum of conversation and the front door swing open with each new customer. My eyes flitted occasionally to the newcomers; a pair of guys, a lonely veteran, a desperate, weathered woman and finally a young man with tousled auburn hair and darting, green eyes.

When our gazes met, my heart stopped.

He looked relieved, hesitant, _desperate_. It was the same man I had seen years before the first time I had walked out of his life. I looked away first, finishing the last of my drink before getting the bartender's attention. I didn't know what to do, what to say.

I felt him before he said anything. I felt him before he even crossed the room. I knew he would come, not sure why I thought turning away would stop him, "Jake," It was just like hearing him breathe a gulp of fresh air. I didn't know whether or not that meant he missed me or was just surprised to find me here of all places, "I never thought I'd see you here, but I'd hoped…" his voice trailed off and I was already pulled in. He had been looking for me?

I didn't say anything, didn't turn to see whether he was wearing that soft expression of love or the distant look of indifference, "You changed your number." I had. It was more a symbol of new beginnings than anything else but I never thought he'd attempt to call, "And you didn't move back to the apartments." I was unnerved now. What reason could he have been looking for me?

"Why the effort to find me, Edward?" I still avoided meeting his eyes. It was easier to speak to him with the air of detachment. I had a better sense of self, I knew I could handle him. But if I was to look into his eyes, I'd know that the love was still there along with the pain and regret. Life was already hard living with not being enough but to have it staring back at me…

He leaned in and I could smell his scent. It was as if nothing changed, "I missed you." I didn't answer and I knew he was starting to lose his cool. He fidgeted next to me, but waited patiently, "Please tell me you missed me."

"What difference would it make whether I missed you or not."

"Jake," he pleaded, "You had every right to leave-"

"I had no choice. Your parents were selling the house." I said through gritted teeth. Id didn't want to do this. Not here, not now.

"I didn't want you to go, but given our circumstance-" I couldn't hear any more of it. It hurt without him over the last year, but I had more than enough time to think. He had his choice and it wasn't me. It was never going to be me. This wasn't about his parents or about him being thrown in a corner. _I_ was his way out, _I_ loved him but _I_ wasn't enough. It wasn't about being known to his parents, it was about him loving me completely, for all that I was, status included. To hear him spurt out _circumstances_ only showed how little he changed and how little he truly missed me. I slapped the charge on the bar before slipping away, clutching at my coat as I stepped into the night. I had parked my car around the block, so it was going to be a walk.

I heard the bar doors burst open behind me, accompanied by Edward, "Jake!" I ignored him, "Jake, please." Thin fingers clutched the sleeve of my jacket. I jerked my arm away roughly, finally turning to face him. His eyes were the first things I noticed. There was pain, so fucking much of it, it was sickening. He looked tired, healthy and alive but tired and so fucking distressed, it hurt my heart.

"What do you want, Edward?" I cried, "What? What could you possibly want?"

"You." It was a weak whisper, a desperate need.

That night I took him home, stripped him naked and kissed every inch of his body. I tasted him for the first time in over a year and it was like water for a thirsty, dying man. His whimpers were amplified, his trembles earth quaking and the whispers of my name..

"_Jake, Jake, Jake_."

We made love until the sun was obstructing our vision, blinding us through the open shades. He clutched me until I came again, resting my forehead on his shoulder, letting my breath return. His fingers stroked my hair, his lips pressed to my temple. He whispered that he loved me, that he never stopped. I whispered the same. Our hands weaved together and I felt a piece of heaven return.

The cold metal pressed against my finger changed everything.

A wedding ring.

I pulled away and pulled out of him in disbelief and disgust.

"Get the fuck out!" I roared. He trembled in fear, clutching at my sheets and covering himself.

"Jake, love-"

I took a threatening step forward, "Don't you fucking-" I snarled, only ceasing my advance when I realized just how scared he really was. I had never touched him before and as God as my witness as much as I hurt, I couldn't ever. I stepped away, turning my back to him, "I don't want to see you again."

"Jake, I-"

I couldn't let him finish. I loved him too much and he hurt me. He broke me in and worn me out. Enough was enough. "Leave."

I didn't expect to see him again. I figured he had what he came for and was satisfied. But the next day, I found I hadn't scared him away just yet. After a long day of spoilers, rims and speaker installations, I was ready to call it a night. I arrived home and found him on my doorstep, waiting.

"What are you doing here?" I startled him out of his position. He got up from where he sat –planted in front of my door –and watched me with trepidation.

"I don't love him, Jake. I swear I don't." He pleaded for understanding, "If I had said no, my parents wouldn't have understood. They would have known…"

I sighed in exasperation, "I don't want to hear it, Edward."

"Jake," I winced hearing the pain in his voice peak, "All those dates. I wanted it to stop. I thought…I thought that if I just settled, it would get them off my back. But we had been dating for nearly a year and they were starting to ask about a ceremony." I blinked at the unwanted information. They had been dating for nearly a year. And how long had they been married? Had I touched Edward, unaware that he'd be seeing the same man who was now his partner? Had one of those dates been him? And when he stopped wearing the suits, it was that man he was seeing? I felt my lip curl in a snarl. Did this man touch him, wake up next to him, listen to his stiff complaints and smile in bemusement? Did he love him?

"I don't care." It was as pained as his need for me to listen. He wanted me to understand but there was no way I could when he believed he could easily be welcomed back, "I don't want to see you. Don't come here again." I left him on the doorstep.

The days continued as such. I would find him there, only to be met with the begging and the promise to make it up to me. He said he still loved me and wanted us to be together. He promised after med school he'd leave his partner and we could have our chance. He promised me forever and each day he was met with a door in his face. I didn't think I'd give in. I was sure I wouldn't. But it was different that night. I had come home from an interesting day at work. There had been a customer. He talked to me, flirted. It was the first time in years that I engaged in conversation with a man I could have easily fucked…but felt I didn't need to. Whatever chemistry we had was just too good for a quick fuck. I was still dancing on the high of our conversation when I stepped out of the elevator.

And I saw him there, broken. His hair was limp against his head and his eyes were tired and red-rimmed. He had been crying, that much I knew for sure and held himself together, arms folded over his chest. I thought back to those nights I had listened to him cry silently, alone in our room, in our bed. And it all changed. I rushed over, scooping him in my arms and taking him inside with me. I held him as he cried, as he apologized until his voice was cracked. He fell asleep in my arms.

I awoke the next morning to him gone, my bed empty. I didn't know what to think of it, so I was ready to forget my slip-up, to forget the night had ever happened when I saw the note on my nightstand.

_Went to class. I love you. _

I wasn't at all surprised to find him on my doorstep the next day. We didn't exchange words. He smiled and I nodded and once inside, I had him pinned to the door, tasting as much of him as I could at contact. We didn't make it pass the hallway. I fucked him against the door, proud to hear his ringing cries, proud to see him come against my shirt without one hand lifted to his pulsing cock. A part of me knew he was still mine, that I was the only one.

It was a routine. I'd see him everyday for a week, we'd fuck and he'd disappear for a month. Only to show up again, apologizing, saying he couldn't find time away when his partner was in town. I had been enraged at first, feeling my bubble of hope pop. Somehow, I had grown comfortable with the sight of him each night, believing he was mine. But seeing that he wasn't happy with his arrangement gave me a sense of legitimacy to continue. I'd fool myself, believing we were almost as we were. I'd come home, he'd be waiting for me, we'd eat dinner, talk, sometimes even go out before stumbling back late at night, fucking, holding each other only to wake up the next morning with sated smiles. He'd tuck his head under my chin, inhale deeply and sigh in content, whispering of how much he missed the old us, how much he loved me. And each time a piece of me would come together.

But it was a pattern.

And again I'd be broken when his husband was back in town, or put a vacation in to spend with Edward. I thought if I could endure it, then I'd get him finally.

Med school came and gone. He was finally doing residency. It had taken a lot of time away from us. He had refused to talk about us to his parents. We began to fight. And it was like it was before. It all came back, his choice of his world over me. Four years he had been married, four years I waited.

Our relationship tumbled into chaos. Fights or fucking.

I couldn't take it anymore. I opted out. Again. And this time I wasn't surprised to see him turn up begging, crying, asking me to wait, asking me to do it for us. I was tired of loving him, of being the invisible man in his life, the man no one knew about. I was tired of the promises but I still wanted him, needed to claim him for myself. I was selfish and hurt and told him I'll continue if we made ground rules first. Condoms was already rule one, seeing how he refused to let me have him bareback after our first fuck in my apartment. I knew it had meant that I wasn't the only one who claimed him, that I was sharing him with another. The second rule we had to agree to was that I wasn't his if he wasn't mine. I didn't elaborate, because I didn't need to. He was heartbroken but agreed all the same. The last and final rule was that we only fucked. No soft kisses, no lingering in the bed afterwards. He meets me, we fuck, he leaves.

I knew he was unhappy with my decision and a part of me hoped it would spark some initiative in him to admit his unhappiness, realize I was worth his step from paradise but by this point I had completely lost all sense of self. My world still revolved around him, even with the fences I had so eagerly put up. I thought it would be easier for me to have him physically, know he was mine but the novelty worn off with the abrasion on my heart. I saw no change and my hope faded while my desire dulled. And when he'd disappear for a few weeks, I'd slip back into a world that existed without him. I had seen the customer again from months before. He had appreciated the work the shop did on his truck and was hoping to get a deal for a friend. He had come to me, believing I could offer. He was beautiful, tall, tanned wheat hair and sapphire blue eyes. He leaned in towards me casually, talking slow and seductive. I agreed to give him a deal, if I could take him out.

I hadn't known what I was saying until it was out of my mouth and it was suddenly like déjà vu. I was reminded of 7 years before, talking to a harried and yet haughty Edward. It made my stomach coil that I would relive such a monumental moment with a stranger.

He agreed.

That night I found Edward once again on my doorstep, smiling coyly, eyes glazed and lustful. I fucked him silently, no teasing, no foreplay. He came and I pulled out, rolling onto my back, wondering if this was all I could ever have of him. He watched me with questioning eyes as I was still hard but said nothing. No words had been exchanged for the entire hour. He was gone just as my cock completely deflated on my thigh. I had hit my mark.

With my nights consumed by Edward, I began to look forward to my days, to working and moving on. I was beginning to see more of the mystery blonde. After the lunch he agreed to, he would occasionally stop by on his way to work, joking and flirting. It didn't escape me that this was almost a mirror image example of Edward years before though this guy was different. He was at ease and polite and there was no pretense to him. But his difference wasn't enough. This was the maneuvers of Edward, so I kept our interactions friendly.

It wasn't until he finally asked _me_ out to a club on the more _urban_ side of the city, did I realize he wasn't Edward at all. He drove a truck, wore worn jeans and had no reservations about himself. He was cocky, secure and took the lead in our conversations. I only agreed to see where it could go.

We danced, drank and made out. But I went home alone that night. And he was there, pacing and angry, demanding where I was and why I smelled the way I did. I had forgotten Edward was meeting me that night. I had –for once –let my world revolve around something other than him.

As he remained curious about my whereabouts the next few weeks, I pulled back from revealing too much. Edward still didn't know where I worked –four years and he never asked –so I didn't have to worry about him finding out. Instead, I continued as our arrangement was set up, fucking him, taking him, relishing in the time we had before letting him go.

But it wasn't as rewarding as it was years before. And watching him as I swallowed his cum, I knew that our story should have ended the first time. It was going to be hard without him but not as hard as it would be with him.

He held himself up weakly against the counter, catching his breath, a strand of hair sweeping over his eyes. He was still beautiful and my heart still fluttered at the sight of him but I also felt the pain and anger. I still felt broken hearted. Love wasn't enough. Not fucking close.

I rose to my feet, splaying my hands on the counter on either side of him and leaned in, brushing my cheek against his. He was warm and smelled so sweet. I knew I'd miss it. Humming contently, he weaved his fingers in my hair, pressing a lip to my neck.

"It's been so long since I fucked your mouth, love." I grimaced at the endearment. It had been even longer since he used it. I removed his fingers from my hair and stepped back, looking at the confusion that now marred his perfect face.

"This is it, Edward." I said calmly, "No more." The expected hurt and need filled his eyes before he was clutching me.

"Jake, what-"

"I can't." I shook my head. I stepped away, "You're never going to leave him and we're never going to be as we were."

His shoulders trembled, "No, please." He reached for me feebly, "Jake, Carlisle means _nothing_ to me." I gritted my teeth at the name. He had only ever let it slip out a few times. I knew very little of his partner other than him being a doctor himself, nearly a decade older than Edward.

"He may not, but your status does." He stared at me, head shaking slowly as if he was unable to comprehend just what I was saying "I wasn't worth it. You've always been honest with me, Edward. Say it. I wasn't worth it."

Unshed tears glistened, causing those green eyes I adored –stared into loved –to shimmer, "I can't-"

"Be honest with me."

"Yes." He whispered, "I was scared, afraid you'd be a mistake. That I'd lose everything I ever had."

I felt peace knowing. It hurt, but there was peace. And that was all I needed, "I don't want to see you here anymore, Edward. I won't let you in, I won't talk to you. And if you persist, I _will_ leave." He stared at me, eyes searching mine in need to understand just why I was doing this.

"Who is he?" He finally asked.

I hesitated only a second. It was all it took before his hands were grasping my shoulders, "Who _is_ he?" He cried.

There was no reason to lie, "This isn't about who I'm seeing." His gasp was a strangled agony. It hurt to hear it but then again he had gotten so used to mine over the years.

"There's…someone else." He gulped, before shaking his head in determination, "I don't care. It was what we agreed on. You can see him. As long as we love each other, it shouldn't matter."

"You haven't been listening to yourself, have you?" I asked a hint of my irritation working its way into my tone, "You _don't_ love me, Edward. You never did."

He adamantly disagreed, "All I ever did was love you, Jake!" He argued, "I lied to my parents, cheated on my partner. All for _us,_ for you."

I kept my voice leveled and calm, avoiding another altercation, "No," I corrected, "You lied to your parents and cheated only for yourself."

Deep down, he knew. I could see it. It flickered to light like a spark before an explosion. He had not only been lying to me, but himself. He was too scared to take the risk and his half attempt at love wasn't enough, "Jake, I-" He started, but finally found there was nothing he could say. It was truly over. And though it was too late to realize the long term affects his choices had, I hoped he could save himself in the end. I let him run into my arms, trembling and grasping. I let him, just this once. He dressed silently, turning away so I wouldn't see the tears streaking his cheeks. Part of me yearned to wipe them away, whisper how it'll all be okay.

But it wouldn't.

He slipped out a broken man and I watched him leave with an ambivalent heart. I didn't know what to feel when the door finally clicked shut. I didn't know whether to be happy, defeated or relieved. But I stood in the rubble of us, savoring his taste in my mouth and looking over the war zone, happy to be standing. I may have been the invisible man to his parents, to his husband, but I wasn't the casualty. My lack of existence spared me; the same couldn't be said for him.

**\/**

**AN: I wonder what you think of both Jacob and Edward. They aren't perfect characters and obviously could have made better choices, but who do you believe was in the wrong here?**

**The next One-shot _Peppermint Breath_ I promise will be all smut and fun! Look out for that on in a week or so. I have much else I'm working on, so expect some chapter stories up as well, along with a long awaited one-shot in the next few weeks. So much to do!**


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